


Eyes of Storms

by imnotashadowclone



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Angel!Annabeth, F/M, Fallen/Tainted Angel!Percy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotashadowclone/pseuds/imnotashadowclone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A time during Creation,<br/>The world is half in an ocean for the fallen and the other in a shore for His blessed, </p>
<p>One of His angels meets one of His disgraced children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes of Storms

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written by a close friend of mine, but she gave me permission to post it as i was the technical co-author.  
> With much love for Jem.  
>  This is a complete creative liberty, please feel free to comment and critique.
> 
> (His, Him and Father are all implications of God)

His fingers were dark-dark- _dark_ , calling her, beckoning, luring her further and further from the safe dunes of shore, into the black sea.

 His voice was sweet-sweet- _sweet_ , honey and something sinister, promising her heaven and earth, calling, _always calling_ , making her arms prick with gooseflesh she never knew she could have.

 His eyes were changing-changing- _changing_ , sometimes green, sometimes blue, sometimes the darkness that came with the colour of the sea when it destroyed the earth, rage and wrath, sometimes the light hue that sang of calm windless days; made for laughter and playfulness, wading into the cool depths without fear, but they were always beautiful, shining, glowing, calling her, _begging_ her to walk, to simply _walk_ forward towards him.

 His hair was black-black-black, the colour of the deepest murky depths of the pit, the colour of chaos, and fear, and smooth-smooth- _smooth_ obsidian, silk in touch and sharp enough to cut-cut- _cut_ her fingers.

 Her Father always told her not to touch the silk-rock, to stay away from the forming world, to stay by His side, to learn, to understand, but she was a child at heart, and her child-heart pulled-pulled- _pulled_ her from her Father, to see more, to hear more, to find more-more- _more_.

At that black-black- _black_ sea there, she found him.

xox

Her body was small-small- _small_ , nothing that would compare his own physique, instead it is something delicate, something protected, something that could never be stolen, something meant for hiding and keeping to oneself.

 Her wings were white-white- _white_ , the same as her modest little bodice whipping tantalisingly around her shape, the white of the purest sea foam, of shells ground to sands that spread-spread-spread in more ways than any eyes could see, _the same white he recalled his own to have been_ , they quivered-quivered- _quivered_ in excitement, dancing with the winds of the sea, something of the motion calling-calling- _calling_ him closer.

 He was no fool; he knew that the gold-spun-sugar haired creature before him was one of **_His_** angels _-angels-angels, something he himself had been_ , her glowing halo of pure sunlight blinded him, and he had not seen that in long-long- _long_ time, sunshine, **_He_** had taken it from him.

Wide, innocent, _trusting_ eyes as grey-grey- _grey_ as the only stormy sky he ever saw _now_ , watched him from her haven of shore, where he could not reach-reach- _reach_ , **_His_** land.

 Instead, he sang, he called, he _summoned-summoned-summoned_ the little china girl he wanted, _needed_ to hold, to caress and feel-feel- _feel_.

At that white-white- _white_ shore there, he called her.

  



End file.
